


we had a promise made (we were in love)

by bobbismrses



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brainwashing, F/M, Mentions of Blood, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbismrses/pseuds/bobbismrses
Summary: It's been three years, three years since Lance captured Bobbi's lips in a kiss that left them breathless and promised her that he'll be back in no time, three years since the last time she saw him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a headcanon I've sent Rachel a little while ago and I've been wanting to write it as a fic ever since so here we are.
> 
> Clearing some little things up.
> 
> \- The people who brainwashed him got killed so he's been on his own ever since (a bit like Kara in season two).
> 
> \- He doesn't go after SHIELD anymore, he somehow managed to control the blood lust after being on his own for a year or so. He still feels loyal to hydra, even though things in his head are nowhere near as clear as they used to be.
> 
> Fic title taken from "Heartbeats" by José Gonzáles.
> 
> If you have any questions, please feel free to come ask me about it!

It's been three years, three years since Lance captured Bobbi's lips in a kiss that left them breathless and promised her that he'll be back in no time, three years since the last time she saw him. 

The first months without him were hell, he was presumed dead even though they never found his body, and Bobbi felt like her world was crashing down around her. But soon, people started whisper about a brainwashed hydra soldier walking on his own, taking down SHIELD stashes, one after the other.

She could feel it in her gut, it was him. (Security footage didn't take long to prove her right.)

It's only a few days ago that she got her first solid lead on him and tracked him down to here, a seedy motel in the middle of God knows where.

All she has to do to find Lance's room is twist one of her golden locks around her finger and bat her eyelashes innocently at the guy behind the front desk. She knows most of Lance's aliases, one peek at the register, a last sugar-sweet smile as a thank you not to raise suspicions, and room 109 it is.

"Here we go," she whispers to herself as she stands in front of his room, fists flexing and bunching nervously. She's terrified and nervous and excited all at once, it's been years since the only thing standing between them was a door. 

She pulls a bobby pin out of her pocket and jams it into the hole in the knob. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," she silently pleads, and a grin spreads across her face when the lock suddenly pops open.

She steps inside warily, gun at the ready, and her eyes haven't adjusted to the darkness of the room yet that a pair of hands is grasping at her waist and pinning her against the door. _"Lance,"_ she breathes out when her eyes meet his in the quasi-nonexistent lighting of the room, the grip on her gun instinctively loosening. 

Lance's eyes linger on her a second too long before bending forwards and covering her lips with his in a hungry kiss. Bobbi knows she shouldn't but she kisses him back, his beard is rough and scratchy on her chin but his lips are soft and warm, and for the space of a moment, she allows herself to have him again.

Before she can even wrap her mind around what's happening, he's ripping the gun out of her hand, disarming her in one swift move. She sighs and lets her eyelids flutter shut, mentally cursing herself for letting her feelings get the best of her. Some habits die hard, she's naturally used to let her guard down with him.

"Pretty sure I taught you that move," she chuckles, bitterness sharpening the edges of her words. It feels like a lifetime ago, those small hours spent on the mats training together, warm skin flushed against each other, smug grins and easy back and forth, wandering hands.

"Aw, Bob, you think I still care for you? That's almost cute," he says, pursing his lips into a mock pout, but deep down this kiss affected him more than he'd like. He can still taste the sweet and intoxicating flavor of her lip-balm on his lips, the familiar aroma sending a wave of conflicting feelings through him. 

"Now, move," he orders, tilting the gun in direction of the bed and schooling his face into a cold and serious expression again. He grabs a rope from his bag and ties her wrists to the bed frame, surprised when she doesn't put up a fight; there's nowhere else she'd rather be.

"How many of you are out there?" he asks as he pushes aside the window curtain and peers outside, careful to stay in the shadows. 

"I came here alone. I don't care about SHIELD anymore, I care about _you_ ," she half-shouts and goddammit, it's the truth. SHIELD painted a target on his back the second he went on his first killing spree, to their eyes he's nothing more than a threat to be eliminated. She only stayed with them for so long because they provided her the resources to find him but now that she did, it's the two of them against the world.

"You're either lying or stupid but either case it's not good for you, love," he says with a careless shrug as he closes back the curtain and crosses the room, dropping off her gun on the table.

"Then stupid it is."

He snorts but he secretly admires her stance, her fierceness, he's always have.

A silence stretches over the room, and Bobbi keeps her gaze fixated on Lance for a long time, a _very_ long time. He looks so much older now, dark bags under his eyes, thick beard and a patchwork of scars dotting his skin beneath the black ink of his tattoos.

"I was pregnant when you left," she admits softly and she can see the way his shoulders immediately tense up at the sudden confession, but then he's laughing out loud, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"So, what? You think you can show up here with the whole _you have a kid waiting for you at home_ card and expect me to believe you? C'mon, Barbara, you can do better than that," he scoffs and it's good, his own words are enough to comfort him in the idea that she's lying.

"I lost them," she says, voice barely above a whisper, and she's not even sure the words have actually left her mouth. It's the first time she says it aloud, first time she mentions it since it happened.

"What happened?" Lance asks before he can stop the words from leaving his mouth, swallowing thickly as he feels his heart leaps in his throat. 

She shrugs her shoulders but the glint of culpability is obvious in her eyes. "Didn't think I would survive, losing you then our baby," she confesses and oh, she's never stopped blaming herself. At the time, Lance had just gone missing and she dedicated herself to the searches, running around the base and barking orders, barely sleeping at night.

"Stop talking, just, stop talking," he practically _begs_ her, flattening his palms on the wooden surface of the table and dropping his chin to his chest.

He's heard enough. He bends down and pulls a silver knife from his sock before walking to her, the brainwashing screaming at him to slit her throat and regain some control over the situation, but he cuts her bounds instead, freeing her from her restraints.

"Get the fuck out of here, Barbara. I have no interest in killing you,” he says, more tired than threatening, as he tosses her gun on the bed next to her.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'm here to help you," she persists, following after him when he walks away from her. She's not losing him again, she's going to save him or die trying.

"I don't want your help, I want you out of here and out of my fucking mind," he shouts, abruptly turning around, and his words startle them both, a deafening silence instantly falling over them.

"What?" Bobbi frowns, the corners of her unconsciously lips tilting up.

"You're there, you're always there," he admits, voice losing its steadiness and his features softening. After everything's he's done, all the blood he's spilled, she's still here, the light at the end of this dark and ugly tunnel, his salvation, and it scares the living daylights out of him.

Sensing the level of tension in the room, Lance grabs his pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, pulls one out and slides it between his lips before lighting it. He takes a long drag of it, exhaling deeply as the smoke clouds his mind for a few seconds. 

"I thought I'd help you quit," Bobbi smirks but he ignores her, he can't let himself think of a time whenever he was itching to light a cigarette Bobbi would just bring her lips to his and they were indeed more addictive than nicotine. 

"How far along were you?" he asks and Bobbi's hand instinctively come resting on the flat of her stomach.

"Thirteen weeks," she smiles, gaze a bit far away. She still has the first scan in her wallet, right next to a picture of her and Lance, she's never moved on from her family.

"It wasn't your fault," he states without making eye contact, focusing on the cigarette slowly burning down between his fingers instead.

She bites the inside of her cheek and looks up at the ceiling, fighting back tears. "You don't know that."

"Yeah, I do. Life's a bitch, shit happens, but you gotta move on," he says, tone harsh but holding more emotions than he thought he was still capable of. "You gotta let me go, Bobbi."

"Not gonna happen," she warns, crinkling her nose up slightly. Lance bangs his fists on the table and she only realises she physically reacted when she sees hurt flashing through his eyes. It doesn't feel the same to be feared by her, he can't explain why after all these years she's still the one who can make his world tilt on its axis.

"What do you want from me? Open your eyes, how can you still see a future with me?" he asks, his voice growing louder by a few decibels as he speaks. 

It's the genuineness of the question that startles her the most, the glimmer in his eyes that's just searching for answers.

She runs a shaky hand through her hair, her lips pressed into a thin line as she racks her mind for the right thing to say, so careful not to push him.

She goes to open her mouth but he holds a finger to his lips to shush her, eyes suddenly wide and alert as the headlights of a passing car flash light across the room. He crushes out his cigarette on the table before pulling his gun out from his waistband and flicking off the safety.

"Lance?" Bobbi frowns, seeing no imminent threat.

"Shut up."

Another reflection appears on the wall and in the same second Lance presses Bobbi against the nearest wall, his body flush to hers, and if someone were to ask him if he did that out of protectiveness or mistrust, he wouldn't be able to tell.

"Hey, look at me. It's just a car, nothing more," she murmurs, voice soothing enough to temporarily tame the overwhelming paranoia in his head. He nods numbly, breath rattling in his chest and shoulders dropping down.

"You came here alone," he says, echoing her words from their previous conversation and Bobbi hums in response.

She reaches her hand out to cup his scruffy cheek but he stops her, catching her wrist and holding it mid-air. "Please, don't," he pleads quietly, no longer used to be on the receiving end of kind gestures. She nods and he lets go of her wrist, fingers slowly displaying around the soft skin as if afraid of his own actions.

Lance turns around and walks over to the mini-fridge tucked into the corner of the room, slowly coming down from the adrenaline rush. He grabs an ice cold beer, pops the cap open with his teeth and spits it out somewhere across the floor. 

"I could use one of those," Bobbi says with a tentative smile, picking at the skin next to her thumbnail as she desperately tries to find something to do with her hands. He makes a noise of agreement as he takes a long chunk of his beer and shows her the way with a half-assed movement of the hand.

Lance sits on the edge of the bed, kicks off his shoes and leans back against the headboard as Bobbi snags a beer out of the fridge. "D'you mind?" she asks, nodding towards the empty space on the bed next to him.

For some inexplicable reasons, he shakes his head.

He wiggles his hand into the pocket of his jeans and fishes out _something_ , before throwing it Bobbi's way. She catches it one-handed, reflexes sharp as always, and her heart skips a beat when she looks down at Franny's Saloon keychain in the crook of her hand.

"Dunno why I kept it," he admits, taking another swing of his beer. "Found it in my pocket one day and for some reasons I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it."

She traces a finger over each of the carved letters, smiling absently at all the memories it brings back. "Keep it, at least for now," she exhales in a rush, shaking herself out of this train of thoughts. 

Bobbi places the metal circle back into his open palm and Lance clasps his fingers around her hand the second she goes to retrieve it, awkwardly threading their fingers together.

His breathing hitches slightly as he stares down at their joined hands and then up to Bobbi's face, the confusion in her eyes mirroring his own. He doesn't say anything and switches his focus back to the wall ahead of them, the keychain still clutched between their hands like a lifeline.

Oh, and heaven knows, it won't be one night, and one ratty motel room and two beers shared in the dark; it'll be a change of heart and change of mind, a _get-out-of-my-life_ and a _please-don't-go._

It will be them, it will be _home._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you guys for reading this far! :)
> 
> feedback is very much appreciated (give me loveeeeeee)


End file.
